


Like Home

by xxpaynoxx



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Airports, F/M, M/M, Returning Home, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 11:33:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7843294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxpaynoxx/pseuds/xxpaynoxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s not to say he has ever really stopped missing Neymar throughout this summer, but he misses him even more now as he scrolls through the texts from last night, Neymar’s messages plagued with emojis and exclamation points, Leo’s short but sweet and Luis’s mostly just laughter at the two of them, all three of them dancing around the topic of Neymar's return home and, especially, this new dating rumor that's surfaced in the Brazil media.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Home

Leo misses Neymar.

It’s not to say he has ever really stopped throughout this summer, but he misses him even more now as he scrolls through the texts from last night, Neymar’s messages plagued with emojis and exclamation points, Leo’s short but sweet and Luis’s mostly just laughter at the two of them, all three of them dancing around the topic of the date of when Neymar would be coming home.

Speaking of Neymar; all these damn dating rumors are getting to Leo’s head.

Leo knows of Bruna, remembers snatches of her from two years ago, knew there was something there, something lurking under the surface of her pretty face. He’d met her at a party when Neymar has begun dating her, somewhere in their second month of being together. Sure, she seemed nice, but when he got her alone and decided to speak to her, she tossed her hair over her shoulder and rolled her eyes.

“This whole Barcelona thing, it’s so _stressful_ for him, don’t you think? Maybe he should come back to Brazil, so he wouldn’t miss his home too much, you know?” she had said simply, as if what she had proposed wasn’t the most ludicrous thing Leo had ever had the privilege of hearing.

“He’s happy here in Barcelona, Bruna, haven’t you seen him playing? He’s loving it,” he fired back, and Bruna eyed him with a glare, almost annoyed that her ploy didn’t work. Leo had thanked God that she didn’t try and pull this on Gerard, who probably had an entire _paper_ on why Neymar loves Barcelona on his phone at the ready at all times.

Luckily, Antonella had reappeared, placing a short kiss on Leo’s cheek and looking at Bruna with a look that was close to territorial, her lips spread wide in a blinding smile.

“So, you must be Bruna! I’m Antonella, Leo’s girlfriend,” she introduced herself, her tone dripping with hostility as she moved to stand next to Leo, offering her hand. Bruna took it, but she looked deflated, as if Antonella’s mere presence had absorbed all of her self-confidence and flair that she had mere moments ago.

Antonella and her chatted for a few minutes, and Bruna popped the question to Antonella (it’s clear she’d been asking everyone, in the way she says it).

Antonella had taken a sip of her drink and smiles, but there was no warmth there, or in her voice when she spoke.

“Well, if Neymar really does not enjoy it here, then why hasn’t he left yet? Clearly he loves it here, and I’m sure a _lovely_ girl like you, traveling everywhere for your modeling business, would understand that he wants to stay here,” Antonella had said slowly, the overly sweet tone in her voice making Leo inwardly wince.

They don’t talk much after that, Leo already not liking how she tried to speak to Neymar, who had returned and asked if Bruna liked Leo and Antonella. She turned to look at him and shot him a smile that looked completely carnivorous, saying that she did, but Neymar hadn’t pick up on the hostile tone in which she said it.

Leo had watched them wander around, watched them approach Gerard and Shakira, Bruna’s manicured hand clamped in the front of his shirt, as if she needed to be holding him close to her every time she spoke to someone.

Shakira sipped her drink and just looked at her, already figured out her game. It was clear that Bruna asked the same question and looked at Neymar as she finished, because Gerard’s head had gone back as he let out a bellowing laugh, shaking his head. Neymar’s face was blank, all color washed out of it, and he almost shied away when Bruna went to plant a kiss on his cheek again.

Gerard had made eye contact with Leo from across the room, and did a small nod at Bruna, like _can you believe this girl?_

Leo shrugged, and Gerard just rolled his eyes, shaking his head.

“I don’t like her,” Antonella had said, sipping her drink, and Leo nodded.

Clearly, Bruna had made enemies in the entire room, because she finished the night sitting by herself at a table, playing on her phone as Neymar laughed with Dani and Rafinha on the other side of the room.

They ended it after Neymar’s trip to Ibiza, and Leo still can’t look at photos from that vacation because of that damn back brace plaguing every photo. Neymar had come to him then, crying and talking about how much he’d loved her and what he did to deserve this pain, and that’s when it happened.

Leo had kissed him then, fucked him into the bed, promised Neymar to make him feel better. Luckily, Neymar stopped crying after that, but it didn’t help the lump of regret in Leo’s heart as he rolled over the next morning and came in contact with Neymar’s bony back, the Brazilian curled in a ball, dead asleep with tears dried on his face.

Leo wanted him when he wasn’t hurting, when he had a clear mind and could remember what happened. He didn’t want to be a post-breakup rebound fuck.

And now, with the Olympics, Leo had seen the videos of Bruna, seen Neymar fighting through the crowd to get to her and just asked himself _why doesn’t he do the same for the mother of his own child?_

But Leo doesn’t push that topic, mainly because he _knows_ why; everyone does, but he can’t help it. Anyone but Bruna was fine in his opinion, anyone who didn’t try and break Neymar’s heart and dismiss his love for Barcelona as a passing summer obsession. That’s not what it was, he couldn’t just go back to Brazil whenever he wanted, he was being paid to play for the best team in the world; there was nothing left for him in São Paulo anymore.

_At least Carolina moved to Barcelona so his son could be close to him. That’s real love._

He’s seen the videos, seen the tweets of people, _his own Barcelona people_ , bashing Neymar and telling him that if he played this good for Barcelona, maybe they would’t have lost the Champions League last year.

It makes Leo’s blood boil, because that’s not why they lost; one player is not to blame in a loss, it’s the whole team. They just weren’t there that day, didn’t show up to play, and Atlético had won, the better team of the match by far anyway.

His phone buzzing jerks Leo out of his train of thought, and he blearily unlocks his phone and sees a text from Lucho.

It reads that Neymar has been called up for World Cup qualifiers and won’t be coming back to Barcelona until September.

Leo’s face falls again, his groan muffled in his pillow, as he presses his face into the fabric.

Fuck World Cup qualifiers.

 _Neymar doesn’t need to be there for that, he just won them a damn gold medal, what more do they want from him?_ he thinks, sighing and pushing his face into the pillow in front of him. Of course, he’s being selfish, but he just wants Neymar home so he doesn’t pull anything stupid and do things he’ll regret.

His phone buzzes, and Neymar’s face appears on his phone. It’s a picture he took himself, blurred with all teeth and glittery eyes, and Leo takes a second before clicking the green button, holding his phone to his ear as he props himself on his side.

It’s not loud where Neymar is, and he can hear Rafinha’s voice giggling in the background.

_“Hey.”_

He says it like he’s out of breath, and Leo can’t help but feel his heart skip a beat. It’s been so long since he’s talked to Neymar, so long since he’s heard his voice that he feels like he could explode.

“Hey, you. What’s up?” 

_“Nothing much. I’m over at Rafinha’s for the time being. The paps stormed my house so I had to take refuge.”_

Leo can’t help but laugh out loud at Neymar running from paparazzi, probably holding onto his cap so they couldn’t snatch a glimpse of his new hair.

“So, blonde, huh? I think you took the meaning of winning gold too seriously,” Leo jokes, and he hears Neymar laugh on the other end, and _damn_ , how long has it been since he’s heard him laugh in person instead of on some shitty, grainy screen?

Leo gets up, pulling on socks and grabbing a pair of shorts from his floor as Neymar rattles off what he’s been doing these past few days.

_“Leo, I can’t believe the Olympics, it’s even better when it’s here, in Brazil! I went to the volleyball game and the players joked that I was their good luck charm, and the parties, Leo, the parties are insane! It’s like Carnaval every night!”_

Leo just rolls his eyes, snorting good-naturedly on the other end as he makes his way downstairs, his stomach growling.

“God, Ney, when you scored that penalty in that final, I fell to my knees and thanked God because you deserve it, Ney, you fucking deserve that gold medal.”

This sudden surge of affection isn’t lost on Neymar, who squeaks a _really?_ from the other end of the line, and Leo sighs, leaning his waist against the counter.

“Yes. God, I’m so proud of you, of what you’ve been able to do, of the people you’ve been able to meet and what you’ve been able to accomplish and I don’t know what else to tell you because people have probably washed you with praises before, but I am so proud of you.”

There’s nothing from the other end, and then Neymar’s breathing, hot and heavy, cuts through the silence, sounding like he’s just run a marathon.

“Are you—Are you crying?” Leo asks in disbelief, and he hears Neymar let out a choked sob that makes his heart lurch.

 _“None of those praises, the ones on social media and from my teammates, they didn't have much meaning to me, because I wanted you to say it,”_ he says, his voice shaky and broken, and it just hits Leo how much he misses him, misses Barcelona, and he almost feel selfish.

They talk for a little longer, Neymar gathering his composure again, and just before Neymar says goodbye, Leo cuts in.

“Ney, I’ve seen the rumors. Of you and Bruna. Are they true?”

There’s a pause, so long that Leo has to check that Neymar hasn’t hung up on him, and then he speaks.

_“Leo, I know better than to go down that road. She offered, but I said no. I can’t—I can’t deal with that again. She’s a good friend, nothing more. Don’t believe them.”_

Leo lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

“I know. Everyone misses you here,” he says, and he hears Neymar sniff.

 _“I miss them too. I have to go, I love you,”_ he says, and Leo is relaxed as he returns the comment and hangs up.

Leo puts his phone on the counter and rubs his hands over his face.

“This is going to be the longest two weeks of my entire life,” he groans to himself, pulling out his mate cup.

* * *

 

September comes quicker than Leo anticipated, the leaves falling in droves as he drives to the airport. The streetlights speed past his window in a blur, Neymar had sent him his arrival time and gate number, and Leo pulls it up on his phone as he parks and walks to the elevator.

There’s a couple in the parking garage who gape at him as he hurries into the stairs, not patient enough to hang around in front of the elevator and take pictures with random fans. Luckily, he makes it into the terminal in one piece without a selfie request, and sits down on one of the benches, phone in hand, and watches the passengers on Neymar’s flight file off.

There’s a couple holding hands, the girl throwing her hair over her shoulder and laughing as the boy rapidly speaks in Portuguese. Their lips meet for a moment, and then they’re walking again, out the sliding doors and into the waiting bus.

There’s a man in a business suit, franticly running towards a shorter woman with a baby on her hip, and they embrace as the man flings his arms around her, kissing the baby’s head as he does.

It tugs a little on Leo’s heart.

Then, he sees a flash of blonde hair poking out from underneath a black baseball cap, and it all happens so quickly.

He stands, knowing it’ll be hard for Neymar to see him already anyway, and his arms open as he sees him come into the hallway, and then everything slows down as Neymar all but sprints down the hallway, face bright and a smile full of white teeth as he launches himself into Leo’s arms, Leo stumbling at the sudden weight of Neymar, who locks his hands behind his head and presses his face into Leo’s neck.

Leo wants to stand there forever, smelling Neymar’s scent and breathing in his stale cologne, feeling his bony frame shaking under his hands and he can’t believe he’s back, he’s holding him in his arms and _he’s here with him._

They get back to the car and Neymar is so tired that he just curls up in the passenger seat and reclines it until he’s snug against the leather, his hand resting on Leo’s thigh as he drives. Leo is content with just looking at him, watching the streetlights flit across his face, change the shadows of his cheekbones and making him look old and young in the same second.

His hand on his thigh is a constant pressure, and his eyelashes flutter against his cheeks as he dreams, and Leo kisses his cheek as he picks him up bridal style, brushing a piece of hair from his forehead.

Neymar smiles in his sleep, his arms moving until they’re locked behind Leo’s neck, his head resting on his chest as Leo moves him upstairs to the bedroom, placing him lightly on the covers. He doesn’t move, doesn’t even twitch, just curls a little tighter on his side and lets out a little sigh.

Leo does the dirty work of bringing his bags in (all four of them, one of them laden with food that Leo has absolutely no idea how he got through customs with), and then when he’s done, he creeps up the stairs to check on Neymar.

He’s moved, his head on one of the pillows, still fully clothed with his sneakers on, hands fisted in the sheet beneath him, mouth slightly open in a soft snore.

Leo first undoes his sneakers and places them on the floor near the door, his socks joining them. Then, he sneaks his shirt off, Neymar’s cap coming off as he goes, and when he gets to his zipper on his pants, Neymar stirs.

“L-Leo, what…” he slurs, eyes sliding open, hazy with sleep. Leo pauses to press a kiss to his lips, before unzipping his pants and pulling them down.

“You’re not going to be comfortable wearing all that to bed, Ney,” he whispers softly, and Neymar giggles.

“Man, for a second I thought you were going to tell me you wanted to have sex,” he rasps, and Leo rolls his eyes, throwing his jeans onto the floor.

“It’s too late for that. Besides, I have something planned for tomorrow for you, anyway,” he says nonchalantly, and Neymar rolls onto his back as Leo undresses and joins him, pulling the sheet over both of them.

“Why are you so nice to me?” he whispers, voice faltering a bit, and Leo’s eyes go wide as Neymar turns onto his side and faces him, eyes glassy. _He’s probably sleep-deprived, he doesn’t know what he’s saying,_ Leo thinks, but he has another feeling that tells him otherwise.

“Because you’re amazing, and you deserve the world, and you mean everything to me,” he says simply, hand on Neymar’s face, thumb stroking across his cheekbone. Neymar’s eyes slide shut, eyelashes casting a shadow over his cheeks as he sighs, moving forward to plant a lazy kiss on Leo’s lips.

“I’ve missed you,” he whispers, and as he snuggles into Leo’s chest, a leg swung over Leo’s waist, Leo smiles.

“Welcome home, _amor_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Some context here:
> 
> [1] Brazil beat Germany in the final of the men's soccer tournament of the Rio 2016 Olympics Games, making it the first Olympic gold medal in Brazil's history.
> 
> [2] It was released by the club that Neymar would not be returning with Rafinha on the expected date, instead remaining in Brazil until September 6th or 7th for national team duty, being called up for World Cup 2018 qualifiers.
> 
> [3] Bruna Marquezine, Neymar's ex-girlfriend who he had broken up with in 2014, has been sighted numerous times out with Neymar, including attending the final of the men's soccer tournament. Neymar has been caught on video footage fighting through a crowd and hugging her, and the next day the two were seen at the final of the men's volleyball tournament, seated a row apart.


End file.
